The Legend of Kitai
by mrenigma914
Summary: The Avatar has forged peace that has lasted nearly a century. But as old foes and an even older conflict arise, can an aged avatar again find balance for the world?
1. Chapter 1

Avatar Kitai

Chapter 1 - The Visitor

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Although she had heard no sound, the house seem to quiet from within. It was as if the very walls had stilled themselves to check that there had indeed been flesh on the door. Even the strong wind blown from the ocean current had stopped tearing at her robes. She knocked again, this time less sure of herself. Her hand shook, but from the chill rather than from fear. She thought back on the words her superiors had given her as she had left. They had chosen her because she was astute and accurate, and her attention to detail was unrivaled. The simple truth was that she available. In an effort to document as much as they could, all of her colleagues had been sent out to the field. They were dispersed around the globe to follow leads before the threads of information they sought out died along with holders of that knowledge.

She was sent to catacombs in the Fire Nation. It was there that she stumbled upon the name: Komatsu. That discovery had almost become her undoing. The Komatsu family had amassed more wealth than several large cities combined. They had tendrils in nearly every profitable business in existence. It caused her to have to sift through thousands of records. The Komatsu's had done a great job keeping their personal lives out of the public and government records. Most of what she found described the family's real estate and business holdings. The financial estimates were staggering. The Komatsu family had a penchant for buying wide swaths of land and various businesses, developing them and then selling them for an enormous profit. Lucky for her, whether her superiors really meant their praise or not, it was her attention to detail that lead her here to this remote village in a bay on the edge of Fire Nation territory. The records only mentioned it once briefly, and the island was so insignificant that it did not appeared on the archived maps. The family had purchased a small home on the tiny island years ago and never did anything with it. She had to beg her way in to access Fire Nation naval records to even find the small archipelago. It was situated several hundred miles south of the capital, tucked in the shadow of several large islands. And so she came.

Even if the lead didn't work out it provided a reason to abandon the catacombs of the Fire Nation. She had spent the better part of the last three years buried in tombs, libraries and underground ruins sifting through and archiving information around the world. She needed the fresh air and freedom that new direction provided.

Though it was now the dead of winter in the Northernmost part of the country, here at the cusp of the southern portion of the Fire Nation the sun peaked through the sky with a gentle intensity. She was grateful for the sun, not simply for its novelty in her underground bookish existence, but because had the sun not been shining she would have died from hypothermia. It brought some warmth to the wind-whipped island.

She lifted her hand formed a fist to knock a third time. Before her knuckles could again rap against the weathered wood a voice shouted from inside the house.

"I heard you the first two times!"

Her hand froze inches from the door. There was no anger in the voice, but its intensity made her retreat back a step. When the voice said nothing else or indicate that it had plans to come to see who had knocked, she gathered her confidence and spoke.

"Hello? I'm wondering if you could help me. My boat sank out in the bay and I just need a fire to dry my clothes and hair." Her clothes were indeed soaked through. She had seen to that before approaching the small house. It was a gambit that she'd hoped would pay off.

"Your clothes can dry in the sun.

"It's winter. That could take all day if it even happens at all.

"If your boat is at the bottom of the bay then you have the time to spare.

"Time I have, but no place to eat.

"We have no extra food to serve,"

"But I do. I managed to save some duck we had planned to roast. Now I'm afraid it will go to waste if not cooked soon."

The house grew silent again. She prepared to change tactics, but decided to wait and see what her gamble had won her when several bolts slid across the other side of the door.

The door cracked and a face, even more weathered than it peered back at her. It was a man, likely 90 winters old. She smiled more than to simply display her happiness that someone had answered but at the irony that the face did not even remotely matched the voice she heard. He looked her up and down in something she would assume was close to pity but couldn't truly tell.

"You are completely soaked," he confirmed quietly.

"I had to swim for shore," She lied.

"And you managed to save a duck to roast?" He whispered even more softly as if the neighbors would hear and descend upon them for a chance at the bird.

She smiled and lifted it out of her satchel

"Oh, please come in," old man said happily and opened the door wider for her to enter.

She stepped inside and surveyed the home. It was a small bungalow, styled similar to the other homes that dotted the shore. The difference was in the craftsmanship. This small home had been built by experienced hands. The wooden floor planks were dark and smooth. She recognized the timber to be an expensive variety, undoubtedly imported here at great cost. She was not a carpenter and so could not place the value, but she saw something whose value she could not determine as she allowed the old man to lead her over to a small dining table. She dropped her satchel in a chair and she sidled over to the fireplace and shed her outer robe. The old man handed her a dry robe pointing to a changing screen off to the side. It was a beautiful handwoven tapestry displaying a beautiful rendering of the changing of season's in a forest in a clockwise cycle. Its style spoke of it having been embroidered by the some great talent, likely Fire Nation if she had to place it. It was worth more than all contents of house together could fetch. She doubted that the two men knew the exorbitant price they could demand and receive for the tapestry.

She stepped behind the screen, changed and emerged in the just offered robe. It was much longer than she was used to, and dragged a bit at the bottom. She had worn the custom robes of her station for so long that she'd taken for granted the benefits of tailored garments. She bowed gratefully nonetheless

"Thank you very much," she said bending deeply at the waist.

"It was the least I could do for a pretty lady," the man winked.

She smiled at the harmless gesture, trying to radiate kindness.

"You could fish her boat out of the bottom of the ocean," came a second voice in a deep baritone. In her unexpected shock at the deep growing sound the woman's feet momentarily left the ground. This was voice that belonged to the man that had berated her knocking on the door. The sound was even more overpowering without walls to mute its intensity. She spun around searching for the source. From the shadow of the small hallway the specter came forward. He caned his way into the light pouring into the receiving room. He was older than the man that had answered the door by probably ten years and the extra age showed itself distinctly upon him. Though he moved slowly, the encumbrance of his age was lost in his demeanor. His eyes were dark and intense and focused on her; his jaw strong, square and cleanly shaven. His hair was as white as any cloud and the few strands he had left billowed thinly over the crown of his head like a rank of soldiers determined to hold their own and give no more ground. His height and shape told that he'd been a large brawny man in life, though his musculature had long thinned out leaving a stoic, wide frame. She could tell from his stance that he was fighting his spine's urge to stoop with old age. She wonder briefly what nation's army he had served in, noted the thought as something she would ask and returned her consciousness to her narrative.

"Well, I've never been that fond of fishing," the man that answered the door said.

"You'll hear no complaints from me. We already eat fish too often." he answered.

"Well, you'll be glad to know that tonight we are having a very different meal."

"What happened to the fish stew you made such a scene over?"

"That was what we were having before. Now, it's just an appetizer." He said this as he ladled soup into two bowls and handed one to each of them. "Tonight this chef will prepare a feast of duck." he said triumphantly, brandishing the limp bird.

"And where did this chef manage to find duck?"

The woman smiled brightly.

The old man tapped his ear. "My hearing is going. I must've missed that part during our little chat through the door."

"Then it's a special surprise for you," She said.

"No, it's not because we won't be having it." The old man said as much to her as to the chef.

"Oh yes we will," the chef replied. "I am forced to cook the same things day in and day out. Fish tonight, fish tomorrow, fish the next day!"

"And each time you find an inventive way to make it."

"That is not the point. I am a world class, top trained chef."

The woman spooned soup into her mouth as she didn't know what else to do. She was surprised to find the soup was very delicious.

"World class?" Older man scoffed. "You were trained in the kitchens at the Fire Nation capital."

"And yet it hasn't stopped you from eating my meals."

"I didn't mean to insult you. You talent for cooking is undeniable."

"Undeniable!" the chef repeated. "And now I once again have a worthy ingredient and you are trying to take it away."

"I am not trying to take anything away. That is the young lady's duck, not yours. We should give it back to her lest she starve on our account."

"No, no." She spoke up. "I'm happy to share what I have. It's not as if I could eat the whole thing myself," the woman pled to the elder man, then speaking to the chef added. " I'd be honored for you to prepare me one of your meals, especially if you make duck half as good as you soup," she said wagging the spoon in the air, "I will have gotten the better of the deal. And I've never had the pleasure of eating food by a world class cook." She said it with a smile. It was the only truth she had told them since she'd knocked on the door.

The chef did not wait for approval but nodded his head and turned to prepare the meal. The silence only lasted for few beats before the gravelly voiced man turned to her and whispered.

"He won't remember in a week that he actually made duck and will begin to lament about fish again."

"Oh," the woman whispered back in a low voice. Does he have much trouble with his memory?"

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you how much." The old man replied with a grin.

The woman grinned back and mentally reminded herself: _smile, win them over, be charming._

"In fact," the old man added. "We keep a daily list of what he's cooked to help him." He pointed to a small list pinned to the wall. "Could you grab that for me."

The woman obediently rose from her chair and brought back the paper.

"Thank you. My hands are getting stiff with age. Could you write-" he paused and called to the cook, "how are you preparing the duck?"

"It's a surprise," the cook called over his shoulder.

The older man sighed in feigned irritation. "Could you write 'duck surprise' for today, please?" he asked her in a low voice.

The woman nodded and wrote under the meal for today.

"Could you also add your name as a guest?" he said. It will help in a few weeks time when I try to remind him that he had a guest here to taste his _world class cooking_."

The woman laughed genuinely. She put the pen to the paper and summoned a name from her memory: Mei. It was the name of a girl she had known back home.

The old man nodded, slid the paper towards himself for review and thanked her.

The woman smiled, "It's a small exchange for the hospitality you've show me. Such traits are a rarity these days."

"Are they?" The old man asked in surprised. "In my day, manners were at the very center of society, a way of life."

"Well, a lot has changed. I've traveled quite a bit and I find the world has become an unkind place."

"That's a shame to think unkindness and dishonesty have become commonplace."

The woman nodded, "It makes me appreciate your hospitality all the more."

The elder man sat his bowl down and laced his hands together, the index fingers connecting in a steeple. "You do?" he asked in a surprised voice and she nodded. "And yet you have lied non-stop to us since you set foot into our home. You say you appreciate our kindness, but not enough it seems to tell us why you are really here." The pleasantness in his voice had only changed a degree, but the certainty with which he said it whipped her to attention.

She froze with the spoon of soup halfway to her mouth, managed to collect herself quickly and then force the soup down her throat with a large gulp. She had not fooled them. She put the utensil in the bowl and placed the bowl in her lap. "I beg your pardon?" she responded with as much innocence as she could muster. The man spoke calmly.

"I guess I will drop my manners as well." he shrugged. "Why have you come here with a story about a sunken boat and needing shelter and a made up name like Mei?" His question was a mix of confidence and curiosity.

"Mei is not a made up name." she gasped with feigned injury.

"It is not your name though," he replied.

The woman sat her tea down. Her voice inquired softly. "What on earth would give you that idea?"

The man shrugged and scratched his ear, "A number of things." he said but did not elaborate.

"Maybe Mei is just an uncommon name for this part of the world?" she said and looked down into her soup, pushing a piece of vegetable around.

"It's fairly common, but that's not what gave it away. There were little things. For example, when I asked you to write your name there was a brief hesitation while you thought it out."

"You figured that my name was fake simply from my slowness to write it," She said disbelievingly.

"Well, that's just an example of one of the signs," The old man said.

"And yet you let me into your house despite the signs." she replied with a smirk.

"I figured if that was your best lie then you couldn't be that dangerous.

"And that's what gave me away?"

"The story about the boat was not really convincing either,"

"I thought that part was solid,"

"You said that you fell into the water. Yes, you are wet from top to bottom, but your satchel is dry." he added as he lifted her pack with his cane. "If you had fallen in only chest deep water, your hair and your bag would be dry as you likely would've put it above your head. If you fell into deeper water the bag would be as soaked through as you are as you would have had to swim for shore and your entire body would've been submerged. But again, you are wet from head to foot and your bag is not. So that meant you didn't want to get it or its contents wet, likely something you needed to keep dry. I'd guess books or papers if I were to take in account your excellent penmanship." he said tapping the menu she'd written with his finger. "Which likely means you study in the Earth Kingdom."

"How did you-"

"-Know it was the Earth Kingdom? You've made no mention, nor are there any signs of a crew with you, so that means if you had a boat then you'd have had to row it yourself. Looking at your arms, It's a safe bet to say that you've never rowed a boat a single day in your life. Water Tribe women grow up in boats, they'd have gone down with the ship before admitting have sank one in such a shallow bay. Fire Nation women could have started a fire with two rocks and would have likely swallowed both before knocking on a stranger's door for help with anything, least of all drying their clothes, and," he looked her up and down and added, "You are definitely no nun from any air temple."

The woman lifted an eyebrow and spoke.

"That doesn't mean I'm not dangerous. I could very well be an assassin and you've let me into your home."

The old man chuckled and sipped his soup for the first time. "Any assassin worth hire knows better to accept food or drink from their intended target. Chef could have slipped any number of poisons into your tea or your soup.

Chef had not even taken his eyes off of the pot he was stirring, but it was clear that he had not missed a word.

"You are no assassin my dear," The old man concluded. "Tell us your real name."

"My name is Hana."

"Ah, there's a real name. I'm Ooma. Tell me, Hana. What brought you to our little island?"

"You are right. I am from the Earth Kingdom," She confessed. "I work for the Ministry of History and Antiquities in Ba Sing Se."

"And the Earth Kingdom has sent you to collect me for your exhibit. They thought maybe I'd have kicked the bucket and want to turn me into some statue to gawk at?" The older man asked. The cook chuckled good-naturedly and continued to stir.

The Scribe shook her head. "I don't collect people. I'm a scribe. I gather and write information for the archives. I'm here to speak with you. A simple interview. That is all, and that is the truth."

The man looked up to the ceiling and back at her. "What information could you be possibly looking for?"

"I am assigned to research the Avatar. The Ministry is compiling information for his official biography. I am a part of the team cross checking the portions of his life that are missing or are factually questionable.

"Oh," the old man said disappointedly. "You're not here to research me?"

"Not unless you are the Avatar."

He chuckled. "I am not."

"Then, no." She said. "I am not here for you."

"That's alright. I'm not fond of visitors any way."

"Hmm," Hana said. "I would've never guessed it."

They shared an easy laugh.

"Researching the Avatar, you say?" Ooma asked her and she nodded. Ooma looked at her intensely. "The Avatar is an old man now, if even alive. If there is anyone that may be able to speak about him their time left may be limited; and so your time would be better spent looking for them."

"I _am_ looking for them. However, it's like you said, most that knew the Avatar are long passed and they are ironically easier to find than the ones living. I happened to discover that this house once belonged to the Avatar's family. My research is more than about the people he knew, but also the places that he traveled to as well. Those can often help piece together a mystery. They are like a firsthand account. But one must become something of a detective rather than a scribe in those cases. That's partly why I came here, to could see if it still held some clues about the Avatar's life."

"Isn't the Avatar's childhood chronicled in the Earth Kingdom? He did spend some of his youth there learning to Earth-bending."

"The Avatar's time in the Earth Kingdom is documented there, but those records are incomplete. And if you ask me, they seem a bit disingenuous."

"Disingenuous?"

"The way those records are written reek of political correctness. I've studied many, many governments texts. The writings stored there on the Avatar all read like a staged version of someone's life. And from what I've gathered from other sources I get the sense that Kitai was one of the more…spirited… Avatars.

The old man looked at her with an expression that she could not read, but it made her feel a bit embarrassed, thought why she couldn't fully say.

"I'm sorry, dear." He said with a shake of his head. "It's just me and Chef here now. He can't remember anything that far back and I'm no better help to you."

The house gave another one of its silences. The scribe's smiled in meek thanks. She began to gather her materials into her satchel.

"What about your early travels?" the cook asked his companion from his post over the fire casually breaking the silence that had lingered while the woman reached out for her belongings.

The scribe's lifted an eyebrow to the chef. "What do you mean?"

The cook banged a spoon against the side of the pot and spoke over the brim and into the whatever was on the boil as if he were telling the food and not his seated audience. "Earlier on in his life," he pointed at his old companion, "he met the Avatar.

The scribe looked back to Ooma.

"Ooma sighed. "His memory is acting up again. He's giving greater weight to some of my younger memories I shared with him. It used to help sometime when I told him stories about my youth."

"And what a youth it was, running around with the Avatar!" Chef said banging the pot again either ignoring or oblivious to the first parts of what Ooma had said.

"Running around with the Avatar?!" Hana croaked. "How well did you know the Avatar Kitai?"

Ooma's irritation had returned. "The Avatar and I encountered each other as young men, early in our travels."

"That's-that's the kind of information I'm looking for," She stammered. "The interactions that helped illuminate what shaped Avatar Kitai."

"Shaped the Avatar?!" Ooma laughed. "That may be a stretch."

"Your interactions with the Avatar may have a greater effect then you realized at the time."

The old man shuffled uncomfortably. She had not expected someone so seemingly sure of himself to make such an anxious move. "In my old age, I can't say that I recall all of the details clearly. It was many, many years ago."

"Why don't you just start where you remember."

"It's mostly jumbled memories. Non-sense, really."

"Anything could be a great help in piecing together his early life."

"Whatever small details I may recall may not be of any use to you."

"Many small details are what complete a puzzle. A small detail is how I found the clue in the Fire Nation archives that brought me to this place. "

"And remind me," Ooma asked with what seemed to be genuine interest, "What detail was it that helped lead you here?"

The scribe smiled proudly and explained.

"The Avatar's family name is Komatsu. It's a fact not widely known, but I learned it while studying some time ago. I saw that someone in the Komatsu family bought this plot of land in the years just before the Avatar's birth. Unlike some of their other ventures outside of the Earth Kingdom, this land was never resold; it stayed in their family, which was something I noticed was odd in comparison to most of their foreign real estate habits. I thought that it'd be worth a look if I could be able to find some trace of the Avatar's early life.

"I see. That was very clever of you, Master Scribe,"

"I'm not a Master Scribe. I've only just graduated from being a novice."

"With your attention to detail I am sure you will move rank quickly enough. I am sorry that you've come all this way and I have nothing to offer you for your cleverness."

Hana looked dejected. "You must to remember something," she whispered. If it had been a fraction more desperate she would have been begging.

"I believe your things are now dry, my young scribe. There is a small inn farther up the shore where you can stay for the night." The old man said ending the conversation.

She was hurt at her sudden dismissal. "I need just a bit of your time." her voice wavered dangerously close to the desperation threshold.

"I don't have much of that left to spare," he said coldly.

"So, why not become apart of history before that time is up?" She mimicked a line she had heard one of the elder scribes use before.

"I'm already a part of history. I lived it. Now it's the past. It's gone. I don't dwell in it and no one cares about it."

I am a historian, I care." Hana said gently. "The past is my life."

"What a sad life you must live then." With a firm chill in his voice.

The scribe opened her mouth and then closed it, devastation etched across her face.

"Who have thought!" Chef chuckled. "There'd be a day when I remembered something and you didn't," the cook said flourishing another bowl of soup and putting it in front of the scribe. "You've told me the story enough times," he said jabbing at the air between him and Ooma. "The story of how you met the Avatar. I can tell her the parts I remember for her records that way her trip here isn't a total loss."

To this the older man raised an eyebrow. "I doubt you could recount any of those stories. You can hardly remember what you made for dinner three days ago. "

"I bet it involved fish," Chef added slyly.

"If you ever decide to give up cooking you may have a career in comedy," Ooma retorted.

Despite her frustration, Hana smiled at the two.

"The part about me not remembering dinner may be true," Chef said "But you used to tell me your younger adventures during a time when my memory was a bit better. Your words somehow stuck in there when everything else was leaking out."

"What exactly do you remember?" The scribe asked.

"You can't trust a thing he says." the old man hissed to her in a low voice. "His memory is far too poor."

"Maybe, but it should at least make for an interesting story over dinner." She turned to the cook. "I'd be delighted to hear your version of events, Chef"

"Dinner will not be happening." the Ooma said. He was standing now and the threat in his voice was unmistakable. Hana had not heard him rise, but his posture was menacing and echoing all the sentiments of his voice.

"It would be quite impolite to revoke my invitation." the scribe replied.

"Then you will have to excuse my bad manners. Your invitation has been withdrawn," the old man countered.

"How terribly rude, Hana replied with obviously feigned hurt.

Ooma scowled coldly and added. "You'd hardly be the first woman to think me rude."

"Fresh, isn't he?" chef said from the kitchen musingly.

"Quiet you!" the old man shouted to chef and waved a fist.

"Apparently abusive too," the scribe added in mock surprise.

Ooma's face contorted into one of such anger that the other two paused.

For the first time Chef put down his spoon and offered to walk Hana over to the boarding house.

"No!" Ooma shouted. "The two of you won't be going anywhere together." He surveyed both of them and then breathed deeply to regain his composure. "That won't be needed. If it will get _you_ to leave," he said looking to the Hana, "And him to shut up," then I will tell you of my encounter with the Avatar," The old man growled and sat. He was now cross with them both, but it struck the scribe as more desperate than angry. She hurriedly snatched her writing materials from her satchel.

"Where will you be starting?" She asked while writing.

"Where all stories start. At the beginning," Ooma answered, still in a huff.

"At the beginning of your time with the Avatar?"

"Yes." Ooma answered.

"And this was when exactly?" The scribe asked without looking from her notes.

"Some time very shortly after he'd learned to bend all four elements."

"And how exactly did you come across the Avatar?" She asked.

"I was assigned to journey with him." Ooma sighed.

"By whom?" Hana queried.

"By the elders of my nation," Ooma answered, his responses growing more clipped.

"And did you and the Avatar grow close during this journey? Did he provide you any details into his life that may have been considered private or uncommon knowledge?"

The old man released a breath nosily, clearly annoyed with her questions that prevented him from the telling of the tale.

"It's a standard question," she said. But the old man stared at her and made no indication that he would answer and so she continued.

"How did you verify that you were indeed in the presence of the Avatar?"

He looked at her as if she were stupid. "I saw him bend all four elements,"

The scribe wrote this down too as she asked her next question.

"And on what particular occasion did you see him do this?"

"I saw him do it on several occasions."

"Do you recall the first or most prominent occurrence?"

"It was during a fight," Ooma answered immediately.

Hana wrote this down hurriedly, her shaking hand betraying her excitement.

"And do you recall who it was that the Avatar was fighting?" She asked.

"Yes," Ooma answered in a low voice. "It was me. I was fighting the Avatar."

Chapter 2 Royal Escort


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - A Royal Escort

Kitai erupted from the ground at Tikal's feet. Tikal was ready and spun out of harm's way in time to dodge a gust of wind that Kitai had aimed at him. Kitai was much stronger but Tikal was faster and dodged two other well aimed attacks. Kitai aimed another attack. Tikal dodged it but not as effortlessly. Tikal landed on the ground for less than the time it took to blink, wrapped a current of air around himself for extra propulsion and pushed off floating back upward.

Kitai would not lay a hand on the young, lithe bender trying to attack him directly and decided to change tactics. Tikal skirted around another blast of air, flipping gracefully and turning at an angle so sharp that it should have been impossible for a human.

Kitai had not been expecting such a move but it did not change his plan. When Tikal landed Kitai had already rotated halfway through a round house kick aimed for Tikal's chest. The young monk tucked his body to land in a crouched position, balanced himself with his hands on the ground and whipped through his own kick aimed at Kitai's legs. Partially through his kick Tikal's rotation abruptly slowed and stopped. He was stuck in crouched position mere inches from Kitai's legs. Tikal's hand were buried wrist deep in thick loamy sand. The ground coalesced and hardened pulling Tikal deeper into Kitai's trap. Tikal tugged hard but could not free himself. The sparring match was over.

"The rumors are not exaggerated," Kitai said to the young boy trapped nearly elbow deep in the ground. "You move swifter the wind."

"And yet uncontrolled and undisciplined" an old monk seated a short distance away rang out.

"But he is undoubtedly the fastest amongst us." Kitai said watching Tikal continue to pull against the ground with no success.

"That is a good trait to boast if his future was to be a messenger or mail courier rather than a monk. Though speed has its advantages, there is more to being an Airbender."

Kitai spoke, his tone holding no challenge to the monk's words. "It is an air nomad proverb, I believe, that says the future is neither certain or solid. The very essence of life is transformation. Under the right conditions anything can transform. Just as a caterpillar becomes butterfly with time, likewise, if given enough time a man can move a mountain."

The monk cleared his throat and countered. "And yet just as a caterpillar must humble itself inside a cocoon to transform, so should a man humble himself to recognize the size of a mountain in order to move it."

"True, Monk Lan, very true. But a man is not born with knowledge of mountains. He learns of it from his mentor who in turn learned it as a student from his own mentor. The knowledge is entrusted so that each generation will pass it on like you are doing now," Kitai answered placidly as not appear to dismiss the monk's wisdom.

Monk Belrin, the eldest member of the elder council intervened smoothly with a hearty laugh, his white beard shaking. "We're happy to see that our words have remained with you in your travels, Kitai. Your growing wisdom Let us see if we can yet turn young Tikal into a monk before he considers a career as a courier."

Kitai turned to Tikal and spoke to him. "I was impressed by your skill, Tikal. Cultivate that skill and it will serve you in life, whether you choose to be a monk or decide to deliver mail."

"Since we are on the topic of mail, Kitai, a letter for you arrived." Another elder said.

"My mail usually just goes in my room." Kitai answered.

"This one you may want to see." the elder responded.

The monks did not normally receive many parcels of mail. The nomads kept very measured correspondence with the outside world and since post was delivered to the port at the bottom of the mountain it was only checked twice a week. A young monk presented Kitai a sealed scroll.

"For you master Kitai." said the small boy holding Kitai's letter.

Kitai winced but took the scroll and thanked the boy, deciding not to chide him for using the title that everyone had taken to calling him. Kitai hated being addressed so formally but trying to convince the monks otherwise had been a headache and so Kitai simply began to answer to it.

Kitai frowned at the intricate emblem that bound the letter. The cerulean tinted wax was pressed with what was obviously a royal crest. Kitai split the seal and unfurled the roll of paper to read the contents of the letter. He was not surprised to have received mail. He'd gotten more of it since his arrival threw months ago than all the inhabitants on this mountain had probably seen in more than ten years. And not just royal letter like this one. Letters from people all over the globe managed to find him no matter where he was in the world. Dignitaries pleading humanitarian efforts, Sovereigns angling for treaties, Economists seeking his advice on currency and trade, children wishing for toys. A normal person may have suspected a conspiracy for being expertly tracked around the world, but Kitai was accustomed to it now. And if he really wanted to disappear, he could.

Kitai looked up after scanning the letter and out to faces of the nomads surrounding him. The elder monks seemed to be fully immersed in various conversations but Kitai knew they were each gauging his reaction to the important letter that was hand delivered to him. They did have enough manners to pretend not to be doing exactly what Kitai knew they were doing. Kitai knew they could sense his distress. He had spent years among them, which was more than sufficient to understand their sensitivity to such things. Kitai had discovered years ago when he completed his training here that he'd cultivated that same sensitivity as well.

Kitai read the letter again and willed himself to not outwardly show his frustration. Letters like these generally came with an entourage. Who ever brought this message was likely waiting at the port for his answer.

"The person who delivered this letter came up the mountain?"

"Yes. Two men, about your height. Came up, watched you fight for a bit after giving us the letter and returned to the port." the young boy answered Kitai. The boy looked unsure, but Kitai smiled and thanked him and the young monk scurried off, happy to be done with his duty. Kitai had a sense his own duty had resurfaced.

One of the elders clapped loudly and instructed the young monks to wrap things up, that dinner would be served soon. Kitai thought he heard a few words of dissent, but the boys began to move toward the kitchen halls. Kitai pocketed his letter and fell in behind the elders.

"What about me?!" Tikal called from his earthen shackles.

Kitai looked back toward the young Airbender. The boy was infuriated. Kitai stomped with his left foot and Tikal shot into the air. The boy turned gracefully over midway through his fall and landed lightly on his feet.

Dinner was a noisy affair as usual. 200 boys were there to guarantee it. The young monks chattered in low voices, but with some many the sound grew until the walls buzzed with laughter and exposition. They had been quiet and restrained during Kitai's first few days among them, but had regained their usual decorum as he had settled back in among them.

Kitai was grateful for the normal noise to take hold of the kitchen hall. He quickly finished his meal and ghosted from room quietly. His exit was silent and unnoticed. Kitai had learned to move stealthily during his childhood. Though the lessons had come at a price, they had time and time again returned dividends in his life ever since.

As he walked in the cool of the night he reached for one of the lanterns that hung outside of the common hall. Kitai willed the flame to grow larger as he ventured farther from the dining monks. Kitai walked across the courtyard where he had sparred earlier and over the meditation grounds. He was headed towards a large stone temple. He blew a gust of wind that carried him up five flights of stairs.

Though Kitai still forgot from time to time, moments like this one reminded him that truly there was no one like him in the world. Kitai floated up another flight of stairs. The immense stone facade looked menacing in the dark, the etchings in the sheer wall of the mountain flickering sharp relief. Kitai extinguished the flame turned sharply on his heel, cupped both his hands into a ball at his hip threw his fingers forward. A blast of compacted air blew over the stone and into the locking mechanism. The giant artifice swung open like double doors. Kitai relit the flame in his palm and entered the blackness tracing his way through the temple to its center.

Kitai saw the statutes through the door arch before he reached the room. Once he crossed the threshold in the massive chamber he shot flames to the hanging lanterns. He scanned through the faces of the stone statues. They seemed to look back with eyes as timeless as the stone that made up their forms.

Kitai pulled out the letter he'd received not an hour ago.

"What am I supposed to do about this?" Kitai asked to the statues of two women closest to him. One depicted a female air nomad, the other a woman dressed in fur with a necklace carved to hang around the base of her slender throat. Kitai's voice echoed into nothingness. He sat gruffly on the floor.

"I didn't ask for this," he continued to speak, to no visible listener. "The least you could do is give me some help." The eyes on the beautiful water bender statue flashed briefly and then lit up, glowing white with an ethereal intensity. Kitai stumbled backward and tried to scramble to his feet but fell and darkness washed over him.

The monks hovered over the young man as he stirred in the darkness. They pressed close to him, their lanterns floating above his head like strangely lit clouds.

"Give him room," Kitai heard Monk Belrin say to the others. The lantern clouds retracted and Kitai was able to make out the five figures above him. The elder monks must have noticed his absence and tracked him here to the temple. Kitai registered briefly a pain in his knee, probably from his fall. His brain and his vision were still a bit foggy. He rolled over and pushed himself upright.

"I'm fine," Kitai said forestalling the monks inquiries before they could ask. As Kitai stood he swayed dangerously. The group of monks swayed in tandem with cautious care as if they were the buffer between Kitai and another bout with the floor.

"I'm fine," Kitai repeated and took a more calculated step. The monks looked unsure but gave him space to walk. They made their way toward the entrance that Kitai had come through earlier.

"We were concerned with your reaction to the message that arrived for you today." Monk Belrin said brandishing Kitai's letter. It was folded and Kitai figured that the monks had not read it out of respect.

"I read it," Belrin said. Kitai held out his hand. His expression stoic. The monk relinquished the scroll.

"We will of course respect your wishes should you wish to be alone. I can understand your distress." Belrin said tactfully.

"I didn't….I wasn't," Kitai started then shook his head. "I just came in here to think and I got a bit more than I bargained for."

They walked in silence for a paces. "What happened?" One of the monks asked.

He ran his hand through his hair. Though it had long grown back since his time training here at the temple, it still felt weird to have hair in this place. "I kind of yelled at Ming-Na for guidance and…well I think I may have gotten it."

"What happened? Can we help in anyway?"

Kitai shook his head. "No, it's something I must do. I am leaving tomorrow morning with the ship docked at the port."

Monk Belrin and Monk Ikrit shared a look between the two of them then Belrin spoke gently, "That is certainly much sooner than we expected. We had hoped you'd stay at least until the Solstice."

"I had hoped to stay a while as well, but this can't be helped."

The monks asked a few more non-invasive questions, between which Kitai could sense them sending inaudible signals to one another over this shoulder.

When Kitai got irritated enough to ask, Belrin spoke up.

"We respect your wishes, Avatar. Would you like a hand packing?"

"I would welcome the help," Kitai said, though he didn't sound as if he really meant it.

When they arrived to Kitai's quarters the two packed in silence. Kitai once again recognized that the monks had rubbed off on him and he asked Berlin what was on his mind. The monk chuckled "I was about to ask you the same question." Kitai let a few moments of silence stretch. Berlin cleared his throat as if at the beginning of speech.

"Tai," Monk Belrin addressed him affectionately. It was Monk Belrin's occasional custom to do so. The name had taken hold when Kitai had lived here years ago to train; an unsure youth cast into a culture very different than the one where he had been raised. Belrin had been kind to him and made him feel welcome.

"The other elders and I have been quite impressed with your growth since you were last here. You have developed even beyond our expectations. We are proud to have played a small part in your journey."

"You played more than a small part, Monk Belrin. "I owe a great deal to you."

The monk nodded noncommittally at the answer and continued. Kitai grew suspicious at the monk's assured gestured. Though he didn't elaborate, Kitai knew his words firmed up the road that Belrin was attempting to travel. Monks rarely mentioned debts owed to them and even more rarely called on them to be repaid. Kitai stayed quiet as monk Belrin continued.

"You have seen Tikal and some of his difficulties. His is quite a talented Airbender and has natural faculties with the element. But beyond the physical he has not grown like we would have hoped. He has had a tough time fitting in with out culture despite being born and raised amongst us. We have tried nearly everything, but I believe that more unconventional methods may be required."

Kitai spoke, "I would stay and offer him guidance, but I am required to answer the contents of that letter."

"Yes, that was an unexpected turn of events. However, I think it may just fit in with Tikal's needs. He needs to travel and grow and there is no better chance to do so that under the tutelage of the Avatar."

"Master Belrin-" Kitai started but Belrin held up a hand and smiled.

"I do not ask this lightly. I know another person to cart around would be a burden. You are asked for so much already. This has been heavily considered and hotly debated, but you calmed those fears during your time with us."

Kitai opened his mouth but Belrin spoke over what Kitai was about to say.

"You said that a pupil retains knowledge and grows when instructed by the proper teacher. The elders and I are curious if you are the teacher for Tikal."

Kitai waited before he spoke. "I'm not sure if I am the right teacher for him." He said replied instead of denying his former master's request.

"I am sure of it," Belrin cut through optimistically. Sometimes an unconventional approach can be the best. I do recall that unconventional methods worked for you."

"I was different,"

"Everyone is different. Each of us is unique in their needs."

"What if he sees the world and he likes it? What if he doesn't return when his training is complete?"

"I will be happy if he is happy, but I do not fear him not returning. You returned."

Kitai folded another shirt into his bag and fastened it tight and addressed the monk. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"

"The only person that needs a win now is Tikal. I just wanted to ask for your help. The choice is yours."

"Why doesn't it feel like my choice?" Kitai mumbled.

"That is because the voice in your head is fighting the voice in your heart," Belrin said. "Just sleep on it, Kitai and give it some thought. For me." Belrin squeezed Kitai's shoulder gently and then dismissed himself.

Morning came quiet and still. Everything seemed shaded in grayish-blue hues as if the day had been painted with a somber pallet of colors. Kitai dressed himself. Someone had come and collected his things and taken them for loading aboard the ship where he would soon be. Kitai had planned to try and leave early and avoid anyone. He deeply disliked goodbyes and felt awkward trying to muddle through them. Whenever he had to bid someone farewell he made it habit to assure them that they would see each other again rather than tell them goodbye. Kitai had made it to the main courtyard and out the monastery proper be he realized that he had failed in his plan to escape unnoticed. In his way on the path to the small port stood every single human inhabitant that resided on the mountain. Kitai stopped momentarily shocked. He quickly gained his composure and walked forward. The crowd split to reveal the elders. Kitai closed the gap between himself and them. The old men each took a moment to pray for Kitai and his journey and offer words of encouragement and wisdom. Monk Belrin went last.

"Have you thought more on the topic we discussed last night?" he whispered into Kitai's ear as the two embraced each other.

"I have Monk Belrin," Kitai said as they separated, sounding very formal and simultaneously very foreign to himself. Belrin wilted a bit. Kitai sighed and continued. "I have great responsibilities that require my entire focus. Right now is not quite the time for me to take on a pupil to mentor."

"I understand, Master Kitai," Belrin said bowing deeply. "Thank you for taking my concern in consideration. I also want to apologize for reading your letter. I was…" he faltered. "I was afraid for you. I know that is something rare to hear a monk admit but it is true. You are special to all of us and we know that you are striving to do the very best you can for our collective future," Monk said rose from his bow, and then added. "but while looking to the future do not forget the present. The things that you affect here and now become the very things in the future that you wished you could have changed. Thank you for your visit."

"I will take him." Kitai said in the moment of silence that lingered between them.

"You will?" Belrin asked dumbly. Kitai grimaced and confirmed his agreement to take Tikal. The monk hugged Kitai a second time and turned and beckoned towards the crowd. Tikal timidly strode from the group of monks toward Kitai and the gathered elders.

"Tikal," Kitai began, "Monk Belrin and I have been talking-"

"I know," Tikal said. "I am excited and humbled to be able to go with you." He said shyly.

"Glad to hear," Kitai replied. "You should gather your things to leave we could be gone quite a while."

"My things are already on the ship with yours," Tikal said. Kitai turned in confusion to find Belrin but the monk had already sidled over to the rest of the crowd now standing between Kitai and the monastery leaving the road clear. Tikal spoke again. "Monk Belrin said that you might be hesitant at first but that your heart is good and eventually it will bring you around."

"And did Monk Belrin also tell you to say that to me?" Kitai asked, and when Tikal nodded Kitai laughed out loud. "I've dealt with many manipulative men, but these monks have no equal." Kitai smiled and bowed slightly at the waist to the congregated monastery. Like a wave they all went to their knees in a full bow. Kitai turned and started the trek to the port. Tikal gawked for a moment at the precedent then turned hurriedly to follow. Tikal had never seen his people either greet or dismiss someone in such a fashion.

The collective monastery stood and watched the two figures until they crossed over the rise in the road and out of sight. It was then that Monk Lan leaned closer to Monk Belrin and whispered so only the other elders could hear. "How did you convince Kitai to take Tikal with him?"

"I simply pointed out that he is already responsible for every person on the planet. In this small way he gets to keep a close eye on one of us."

"I can not fathom what a burdensome job it must be to have to master the four elements and shoulder the title of Avatar."

"And you should count it a great blessing that you'll never have to," Monk Belrin said.

Kitai watched the youth from the corner of his eye. Kitai had purposefully decided to slow their walk just short of landing at the port. Tikal had followed him but had not asked why Kitai had chosen to walk the remainder of the way and instead kept pace with Kitai in silence. Tikal's height came just under Kitai's jawline and Tikal had to walk quickly to match pace with the taller bender. Tikal had been a young boy when Kitai had completed his training at the temple. Their interaction though memorable for Tikal was minimal at best, so much so that Tikal was sure that Kitai would not have been able to call his name had Monk Belrin not provided it. Kitai had trained with an older set of boys and had advanced quicker than all of them. All the young monks had been impressed with the rapid ease that Kitai had mastered their forms. They had all looked up to him. Now standing beside him Tikal realized that Kitai was still quite young. Some where in his mid-twenties and master of all the elements. Kitai was a third the age of the youngest member of the air temple's council of elders and more powerful than the five of them combined. The divine medium trapped in human form. Tikal glanced over at Kitai and realized that the Avatar was watching him. Tikal met Kitai's stormy green eyes. He would've guessed that their timeless depth came with all the other traits of being Avatar, except that Tikal had not remembered that timeless look being there when Kitai last lived among the air nomads.

"You seem very deep in thought," Kitai said to the young monk and when Tikal nodded Kitai then asked, "May I ask what is was you were thinking?"

Tikal had not expected to be questioned by the Avatar. Monk Belrin had only him just last night told him that he would travel would be traveling and to prepare for a long journey. It was at dawn that Tikal had discovered his companion would be the Avatar. Words of wisdom and encouragement had flowed from Monk Belrin's mouth as he said words of farewell to Tikal, but all the youth boy had managed to hear from the monk was honesty and courage. To ask the Avatar a question required both.

"I was wondering," Tikal started and Kitai nodded in encouragement, "what it is like to be the Avatar."

Kitai was not shocked. He had been asked that very question with unwavering consistently from the very moment he had found out that he was the Avatar.

"I have been asked that question many, many times. As years go by I find my answers changes. The part that matters though is that being the force tasked with preserving balance in the world means I have a lot of responsibilities, some are fun some can be very unpleasant.

"It is an impossible sounding job to have," Tikal said.

Kitai shrugged, "There are definitely people out there that are not interested in making it easy for me. But I manage how I can," Kitai tried to say in a kind voice to Tikal so that the boy would not be discouraged to ask any other questions. "Is that all you wanted to ask me?" Kitai added when Tikal said nothing more.

"I don't know." Tikal answered.

"You don't know what you want to ask me? That is odd. The monks told me that your day is not complete until you have asked at least a thousand questions. Surely you have more than one for me."

"I do know, but they are all silly questions. I don't know if I should ask. I would not want to anger or insult you."

Kitai laughed. Tikal liked the sound. It was infectious and youthful.

"Are you plotting to take over the world?" Kitai asked, his tone one of mock seriousness.

"No," Tikal answered quickly.

"Good, then you won't have to worry too much about angering me. As far as insults, I've traveled the four nations pretty extensively and along the way I have been called some very unkind things. So don't worry about that either. Since we will be traveling together for quite some time I think some questions may be a good idea that way we get to know each other," Kitai said his voice still holding the kind tone in his voice. Tikal noted that Kitai did not specify how long 'quite some time meant'. Kitai spoke again. "I'll make you a deal. I will try to answer any question you may have, but only if I can ask the same question in return."

"Deal," Tikal said back.

"Alright," Kitai said rubbing his hands together. "What have you always wanted to ask the Avatar?'

"I guess something that I've been curious about is if you feel different, like on the inside?" Tikal asked hesitantly.

Kitai walked along a few steps before answering this one. "Depends. Describe to me how does it feel to be an Airbender?"

Tikal thought carefully for a moment but could not find an answer that summed up how it felt to feel like an Airbender. "I don't know. I've always been an Airbender."

"Exactly. My answer is the same. I've always been the Avatar, even when I did not yet know it. I have no other life to compare it to and thus very little frame of reference for what it is like to be anything other than me. To me, bending all four elements is completely normal now. It's all I've heard I would do since I was fifteen."

"What about your other lives?"

"The previous Avatars you mean?"

"Yeah. The monks taught us that the Avatar Spirit travels through a cycle and that when one Avatar dies the spirit is reincarnated within a new body.

"Yes, the Avatar Spirit travels in a cycle. When one Avatar dies the Avatar spirit Raava travels from that body to another person in the cycle of Fire, Air, Water, or Earth. However it is only just death, but also life required to complete that cycle. So while in spirit I am connected to all the past Avatars, this life I am living is my own."

Kitai wasn't sure if Tikal understood all of it but the young monk took a quiet moment to ingest the words before countering with his next question.

"How does it feel to bend each of the four elements?'

"Another good question, and unfortunately one that if I explained in depth would ruin the answer. But if I were to give a short answer it would be that I have gradually realized that the four elements are more similar than different. For example, the bending disciplines are taught with very different approaches. Fire is taught with intensity, Water with calmness, Earth with strength and endurance, and Air with tranquility and clarity. But really each the bending forms require all of these traits. Imagine if we were to look at bending like it was a person. It would be unhealthy to simply be just one of these all the time. The person must be able to exhibit all these traits as necessary and in balance. Bending is the same."

"I've never looked at it that way." Tikal confessed.

"Many don't," Kitai replied. "They only ever see bending in the way that it was taught to them. And so that is why often a talented bender is not considered to be a master if they do not emanate specific trait that goes along with bending that element." Kitai shifted his pack higher on his shoulder, "if that were really the case, then I'm not naturally an earthbender. Maybe on the inside I am a waterbender trapped in an earthbender's body."

"More like a waterbender, trapped in an Airbender, trapped in a firebender, trapped in an earthbender's body." Tikal corrected and they both shared a laugh. They walked for another few moments in silence as they approached the port.

"Anything else before we board?" Kitai asked.

"I've always lived with the monks here at the temple and I have always been an Airbender. Though you have always been the Avatar, you had a different life before you began to master all the elements. What was it like before you knew you were the Avatar?"

Kitai had been looking toward the port when Tikal had posed the question, but Tikal had noticed the sad expression ghost onto his face. He instantly felt a pang of regret for asking the question, but Kitai's expression was gone as quickly as it had come and before Tikal could recant his question the avatar spoke.

"My time before becoming Avatar is not something that I've shared with many people. I don't think I've ever told anyone much about that part of my life, in fact. Those times were among the most difficult for me," Kitai replied slowly.

"Forgive me for asking, Avatar Kitai," Tikal began, hoping for absolution for his question.

"There's nothing to forgive," Kitai said. "It was a question that would naturally follow the others that you've asked. I used to ask my self the same question during the late years of my training. I wanted to remember as much as I could. You see, I was very young when my parents died and I purposefully began blocking out my memories of them. Odd that an orphan would not want to remember his parents, but it hurt me so much more to think of them. I needed ways to compartmentalize my pain so that I could bear the weight of the other things that were happening in my life. As I grew older I felt shame for having wanted to discard my memories. Thought in time I came to understand that everyone has their way of coping with pain. That was mine."

Tikal nodded his understanding.

When Kitai spoke again it was a bit more cheerful. "But I didn't answer your question, did I?" He said this halfway in his thoughts. Tikal did not confirm or refute the question. "My life isn't full of painful memories," Kitai continued. "Once I began asking myself who I was before the Avatar, a whole life I lived before I could bend all the elements came back to me, slowly, but it came back."

Tikal said nothing.

"Why did you ask?" Kitai questioned the young monk.

"You've just always seemed to me to be The Avatar." Tikal whispered the words as though they were mystical. "Much in the same way as the elder monks have always been elders. It's odd to think you were at some point not the Avatar."

At this Kitai laughed. "Let me assure you I was not born bending four elements. I have had my share of struggles. Kitai sighed.

"Master Avatar, you didn't answered your question." he said.

Kitai smiled to himself. "No. I didn't, but I will once we're on the boat and settled.

"I don't mean to pry, Master Avatar."

"You _can_ call me Kitai."

"Okay, Avatar Kitai."

"Just Kitai is fine."

"The Elder Monks would not be okay with that."

Kitai looked over his shoulder. "I don't see any elders here." and they shared a laugh.

The crossing from dock to boat was quiet. Three towering men stood at the ramp up to the vessel. They bowed deeply upon seeing Kitai. Kitai gave a slight bow in return and then turned his head slightly to the left to look toward the ship and asked aloud. "The engine is on. Are we setting off soon?"

"Yes, sir." The shorter of the three men answered. "Your presence is requested immediately. If the weather permits, we will be doing double time to the North Pole."

"Okay. Why the hurry?"

"The tribal elders have told us nothing other than to bring safely to the North Pole."

"So you brought a letter all they way to the Western Air Temple and you don't know why you've come so far?"

"We are just following order, Avatar Kitai."

"Whose orders?"

"My orders." The voice came from the ship. Kitai had to shield his eyes a bit as he looked a the man on the stern of the ship. He was enrobed in Water Tribe average Water Tribe garments, but his demeanor was that nobility. He was toned and muscular. His hair was long and was already graying, though Kitai knew he couldn't be that old from his first glance at the man.

"And you would be?" Kitai asked.

"I'm the captain of this ship and your escort up north. The faster your board the sooner we'll arrive."

Kitai eyed the ship. It was smaller and more narrow than most Water Tribe ships that were built for traveling long distances. He'd guessed it was built for speed.

"Who do I thank for this escort?" Kitai asked.

"You can thank the northern water tribe elders," the captain answered.

"I don't see any elders. I only see a captain and his crew. I'd like my thanks to go to them, captain-?" Kitai reached out for a handshake.

"Ooma. I'm Captain Ooma." the man answered.

They shared a firm handshake.

"Thank you for the escort, Captain," Kitai smiled.


End file.
